


we killed each other (many times)

by ElasticElla



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Crusades, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:01:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25583278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: Nicolo dies in a beautiful man’s arms.It isn’t what he expected from war.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 12
Kudos: 64
Collections: Battleship 2020, Battleship 2020 - Yellow Team





	we killed each other (many times)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [liesmyth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liesmyth/gifts).



> eta: apologies, originally linked to the wrong liesmyth/liesmith

Nicolo dies in a beautiful man’s arms. 

It isn’t what he expected from war.

Certainly didn’t expect to wake up on the battlefield once more, not in any traditional heaven nor hell. The beautiful man isn’t dead either, stabs him before Nicolo can do more than wonder. 

.

Nicolo is plagued by visions of two women riding a horse with no tack. Too vivid to be a dream, he does not understand it. 

It is not a lustful sinner’s fancy, nor a prophetic dream. 

He prays – to escape this realm, to become the pious man he once was. Even in this not-dream, his mind is divided, no longer wholly devoted to the cause. 

.

He awakens again, a chill in the air, thick with the scent of corpses. He hears nothing, dares to open his eyes slowly. He should not be – this is impossible. Cursed magic of some sort, he must repent. He knows not what he did, but will discover it. (Thinks of the beautiful enemy, knows more than he wishes to admit.)

In the deepest depths of his heart, Nicolo already knows it matters not. 

He is damned. 

.

Nicolo can still carry a sword, can help recover the Holy Land, even if he is no longer fit to set foot within. 

Word comes that Tiberias is under siege. He marches with thousands of men across the arid plains, the familiar motions mock his mind. 

It feels just like before, and he holds no proof that he has changed, that he has risen. 

(Should choke on his pride, the sheer blasphemy of it all.) 

.

He has another vision of the women. Longer, stranger than before. 

They are warriors, like him. 

They cannot die. 

.

Not even halfway to Tiberias, they run out of water. The infidels on horseback don’t let them sleep, do all they can to slow them. 

Nicolo doesn’t believe his eyes, the beautiful man is one of them. Shoots an arrow through his heart, dead before he hits the ground. 

His friends attack, and Nicolo can only kill a few before he is swarmed and beheaded. 

This time when he wakes, he doesn’t question it. Merely looks for the beautiful man. 

There is no corpse to be found. 

.

It is many years before he sees the beautiful man again. Enough that he thinks him a mirage, enough that he watches his family die as he fails to age a single day. Enough that he comes to accept his own immortality. 

By prosperity or providence, Nicolo discovers the beautiful man washing his clothes by a river. His muscles gleam in the sunlight, and he could not say if it were lust or anger stronger in his clenched fists. 

This – this infidel who killed so many of God’s men, killed himself even – twice! For him to be laundering like a simple man, kneeling in the river, half naked and damp – 

Nicolo swallows. 

The man is temptation made flesh. Such sin cannot be permitted to survive. 

Nicolo charges him with a yell, sword extended, will kill him right this time. 

.

Nicolo wakes up with a groan, laying on the river bank. His cheeks flush as he remembers that, that heathen standing up to reveal he was fully naked. The surprise partnered with a slippery rock, and by far the most embarrassing way he’s died yet. 

The beautiful man stands over him, clothed and smirking, holding his sword. Says something in a tongue he doesn’t speak, doesn’t seem to understand Nicolo’s response either. 

And then pain burns through his gut as he’s stabbed with his own sword, grabs a nearby rock and hurls it upwards. The beautiful man falls away, and Nicolo wrenches the sword out of him, flips it around and stabs until the man dies. 

He expects to follow, but his healing has gotten faster, Nicolo doesn’t succumb to his wounds. Instead he waits at the man’s side, flesh slowly becoming whole once more. 

Holds his blood soaked sword to the man’s neck as he comes back to consciousness. 

Points to himself and speaks slow, “Nicolo.” 

The man’s eyelashes flutter against the sun, this is such a foolish idea. He should know better, this man will not be converted – 

“Yusuf.” 

Yusuf leans up, allows the sword to bite into his throat and wears an easy grin. 

The enemy, Nicolo reminds himself, he has the advantage can decide what – 

Lips press against his, startling and soft, and no one could blame him for losing his grip on his sword once more. Yusuf slices his throat open, and when he awakes, the man is straddling his lap, familiar sword held to his neck. 

And as Nicolo mimics the action from before, sword biting into his throat, he sees the heat in Yusuf’s eyes, will find a way to exchange their places once more. 

(It is many more times until they start trading smaller deaths, far more pleasurable though often just as messy.)


End file.
